


The Other Little Secret

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Underage, Masturbation, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the road North from Kings Landing, Gendry is having trouble sleeping. He reflects a little on his life so far, and takes a dip at a hot spring.<br/>(Second POV for My Little Secret)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [My Little Secret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/843637) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> I wrote this as simply a different POV for "My Little Secret" (which you should probably read first, to avoid spoiling it) and to have a go at getting into Gendry's head. My assumptions are based pretty purely on Joe Dempsie's performance of the character, since I haven't read the books, or seen season 3 yet. I hope you enjoy it!

He found it difficult to sleep out here. Away from the night noises of the city, and the warmth of the forge. Never yet seeming to fall into a proper sleep. Not slept proper since the night before master Mott had told him he'd had enough of the Lords and their questions. That he would prove to be nothing but trouble if he kept him on. Sold to the Nights Watch. Just like that. 

But just like that was how he'd ended up an apprentice blacksmith too. Taken from the orphanage one day, and into the forge the next. At least it was warm. He shivered now, and tried to wrap his blanket tighter around him. 

His mind would not quiet. He tried, as he often did when sleepless, to remember his mothers face. Failed, as usual. Just small things he recalled. Her long yellow hair, catching the sunlight, the sound of her voice as she sang to him. The feeling of safety in her presence. He was resigned to it now, her departure from his life. But in the night sometimes, he still poked at the wound of her loss, though he no longer cried in the night, as he had at the orphanage. Couldn't change things. Do what you can with what you've got. Who had told him that? One of the sisters at the orphanage?

He opened his eyes. Looked up into the trees above. Stars up there, beyond the branches. More than he'd ever seen in Fleabottom. Looked around at his companions sleeping forms. Lucky bastards. He sighed. Hot Pie's snoring stuttered. Stopped. Resumed a moment later. Just beyond him, he could make out Arry's little body under the blanket.

Thinking back to the day they all met. Hearing their voices, and turning around to find Hot Pie standing over Arry and demanding the sword. That sword. It nagged at his brain. But so did Arry. Within half a day he was sure she was a girl. But he was thrown at first. He had been about to step in between this runt of a boy and his bully when she had surprised him. Her quickness in getting the sword to Hot Pie's throat, the viciousness of her words. 

“I like killing fat boys.”

A sort of natural grace that made him look twice. Hot Pie was right. She did look like a girl, though he meant it only as an insult. Funny what assumptions a set of clothes will give, he thought, as he stepped in to put the fat boy in his place. Picking on the little ones. He hated it. Reminded him of the early years at the orphanage, before he'd learned to stand up for himself. Correction, before he'd been taught to stand up for himself.

Still, he watched her. Caught little things in the way she moved, the way she talked sometimes. Not quite a girl, not quite a boy. Both. Neither. I wonder what she's doing here, he thought. Is she really going to try and join the Night's Watch? Surely she'll be found out. And that sword, what was she doing with it? She even seemed to have some skill, so someone had taught her. But who would teach a girl that sort of thing? She intrigued him, but as usual, he kept his mouth shut. Better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt. Master Mott's pearl of wisdom.

He'd not spent much time around girls. In the orphanage they were mostly kept separate, and the blacksmith had no children. But he watched them in the street, and in the tavern where master Mott took him once or twice a week, if business had been good. You could learn a lot in a tavern. If you kept your mouth shut.

Larinya was her name. The serving girl there. She was no beauty, but she had a bounce in her step, and a funny little smile, like she knew something he didn't. And she probably did. She was a good four years older than him. He heard the boys in the tavern talk about her. Describing things that made him blush as he pictured them in his mind. It was no wonder she had starred in his first wet dream.

He stretched himself out on the cold hard ground. Thought about getting up, going down to the hot spring, near where they had camped for the night. Not far, but far enough, in the dark. It would be good to get warm though, maybe help him sleep. Wished he'd thought of it earlier. He'd been on dinner duty last night, and missed his chance to soak. He wondered if Yoren was on watch, as he sometimes was.

He sat up and looked around, was that him, over there by the stump? He got up as quietly as he could. But Yoren opened one eye at his approach.

“I can't sleep. Can I go down to the spring?” He whispered.  
Yoren paused, then nodded, a short ok. This one wasn't going to run, he thought, he'd seen the resignation in his eyes. “mind yourself” he grunted.

It was a good thing the moon was still up to light his way. Still, he managed to kick his toe on the rocks, winced. As he reached the spring, he was already removing his belt.

Steam was rising from the pool, inviting in the moonlight. The gap in the trees revealed more of the stars. Gendry trailed his hand in the water, it was almost painfully hot to his cold fingers. But it was a good kind of pain. He stripped off his clothes as quickly as he could, and stepped into the water, little by little, letting his body adjust to the heat.

As his body warmed, he splashed the water up over face and hair. Hair that master Mott had made him keep cut short. A danger in our line of work, he'd said. He supposed he could have had worse, for a master. He had enjoyed working with metal. It had come as a surprise to find he had a talent for it. It had come as a surprise too, when master Mott told him he was to leave for the Wall. But that was how things seemed to go for him. He found something good, then it was taken away from him.

He sighed. Thought of his life at the blacksmiths. The ring of the steel. The evenings at the tavern. Larinya. He felt his prick stir, under the water, and he took it in his hand. What a luxury to be alone, he thought. This might be my last opportunity for a while. If there are no women at the Wall, I wonder if I might die a virgin? He thought of Arry then. But she was so young, it barely bore thinking about. I wonder, does she have tits under there? Will she have to strap them down as she grows? Or will they remain small? He played back in his mind, the glimpse of collarbone, the hollow at the back of the neck, her hands as she held her sword... struggled to imagine her older, to imagine her face on Larinya's body. But he couldn't do it. Imagined Larinya's hips as she moved about the tavern, those hips, riding him, those breasts bouncing above him as she rode up, then down, up, then down. Her face in shadow.

He rubbed the end of his prick with his thumb, felt the tiny bit of fluid pre-cum against the tip, even as it leaked away into the water.

A noise through the trees! He leaped up to stand, knee deep in the water, tensed, ready to run.

But it was only a bird.

He relaxed. Now the cool air felt good on his hot skin. He could feel the heat rising off the water. Imagined the heat of a woman's skin next to his. His prick began to rise again.

It's beginning to get light, he thought. I need to finish this before the others start to wake.  
He sat back against a smooth rock, it was firm against his arse, but not cold, warm from the heat of the spring. He turned his thoughts back to Larinya, and to the other girls he'd seen around regularly. The baker's daughter, the wheelwright's wife. Imagined the slim and muscular arms of one, the narrow waist of another, and small hands around his cock. Who's hand's? 

Arry's, he thought. Arry's hands. And he came, with thighs and buttocks clenched. His seed spurting across the back of his hand. Shuddering to a stop. His mind blissfully blank for a few moments, as his breathing settled.

He lay there a few minutes, feeling incapable of movement, before he realized the birds were awake and the moon gone. He pushed himself upright, and into the water again, to rid himself of the evidence. Minutes later one of the other boys appeared.

“shove over, I'm coming in!” he grinned.

“it's all yours mate, I'm wrinkled as a granddad” Grendry climbed out and dressed himself. Started back to the camp. Coming down the rise, was Arry.

As he greeted her, an image flashed across his mind of her hands. No, he thought.

Feeling silly, he put the image out of his head, and continued up the rise to the camp.


End file.
